Rollerblading, really?
by Youpeoplearetoordinary
Summary: Sherlock is bored,that is until a new case comes up.  Rated T to be safe and for possible future chapters
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock sighed as he took aim. He was bored. John had gone out and left him again. It wasn't fair. The wall opposite was starting to look like a particularly vicious mouse had attacked it but Sherlock didn't care. Suddenly he looked up. The heavy tread of John's footsteps could be heard on the stair. He grinned then caught himself and arranged his features into what he hoped was a neutral expression.

"Sherlock you in?" John called as he opened the door to the flat. He peered round the edge of the door frame, noticed Sherlock on the sofa and then noticed the wall.

"Bloody hell...where did you get the gun from anyway?" John sighed and carried the shopping through into the kitchen.

"It wasn't exactly hard to find yours John." Sherlock called out in response. "Think of somewhere more imaginative than your sock drawer next time." He rolled his eyes and moved through into the kitchen, hoping John would make him some tea.

"Just ask if you want some!" John sighed as he got out two mugs from the cupboard.

Sherlock smiled at his friend then wondered of and picked up his violin. Plucking at the strings he thought about the last few days. He needed a case now or he was going to go insane. He mentally checked himself. Well, more insane anyway. Raising the violin to his shoulder he played a few melancholy chords.

"Tea's ready," John called from the kitchen. Sherlock turned and made his way through to John. Carefully avoiding displacing any of his precious science experiments he sat down at the table and stirred at his tea half heartedly.

/

John was starting to get worried about Sherlock. He knew the time in between cases was hard for him but he didn't normally become this subdued, if you could count shooting holes in Mrs Hudsens wall subdued. He peered over his mug at Sherlock. He was dejectedly stirring his tea with a lost little boy expression on his face.

"How's your day been?" He asked Sherlock with a sigh, already knowing the answer.

"I need a case John! I'm bored. Why is no one dying in London any more? Should we move to the country? Maybe more people die in mysterious circumstances out there?"

John laughed at the mental image of Sherlock tending sheep and then turned his mind back to the matter at hand. "I'm sure something will turn up soon, Sherlock, just be patient!" Sherlock glared at him over his mug of tea before disappearing behind it as he took a sip. There was a ring at the bell. John couldn't believe his luck..

/

"Show them in Mrs Hudsen." Sherlock yelled. A case finally a case! A small man was ushered into the room. Sherlock listened whilst he explained his problem. Nasty murder involving a pair of ice skates...

"I'll take it!" He looked delighted, then noted the look John was throwing him so arranged his features into a more acceptable expression for those discussing murder. "John, find some acceptable clothes, we're going rollerblading..."


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes John wondered if he was actually going mad. This wasn't the first time, (and it sure wasn't going to be the last time) that he had followed Sherlock into a bizarre situation. But right now his help was needed. Of course he had been rollerblading before, but Sherlock...well John looked at the evidence presented to him. At the present moment Sherlock was on the floor, having lost his grip on the edge of the rink.

"John, help me!" Sherlock demanded. John took one look at him and burst out laughing. For once he was the experienced one and Sherlock was a total novice! When he finally helped him to his feet he couldn't look him in the eye without laughing. Instead he whizzed past Sherlock, completing a lap of the rink before sneaking up behind his friend and watching him flail.

/

Sherlock couldn't remember why he had decided he actually needed to give the damned sport a go. He already had added it to his list of pointless persuits that normal people persued, but he couldn't help feeling a tad jealous of John as he gracefully pullled away from him, skating of into the crowd.

"Bloody wheels are not meant for feet...what kind of a stupid sport is this anyway?" Sherlock muttered to no one in particular. Suddenly a beefy red necked bloke came up from behind. Sherlock lost what little balance he had had and arms flailing around like wind mills he fell once again. That was it. He sat on the floor, undid his laces and took the boots of. Crossing the rink he went to sit in one of the spectator galleries.

His eyes followed the red neked man around the rink, already he was starting to piece the case together. It was curious though, why someone had used an ice skate as a weapon when the rink was clearly used for rollerblading. He pulled out his phone to start investigating the building. 10 minuites later he looked up to see John staring at him.

"I know why they used an ice skate," he proclaimed. "This used to be an ice rink in the 80's. Popular with everyone by the sounds of it but the manager saw that more money could be made with less effort if the rink became dry, hence the rollerblading. I expect our murderer wasn't best pleased when the ice rink was converted."

/

John had noticed Sherlock leaving the rink but he was having to much fun to care. It took him right back to being a kid. After a while though the thought of a bit of company, however strange that company might be, sounded appealing. Stopping at the cafe on the way he made his way over to where Sherlock was sat. He knew better than to interrupt the 'consulting detective' whilest he was working so instead he sat and sipped his tea, aiting for Sherlock to notice him.

When Sherlock looked up John could already see an answer forming in his eyes. After explaining the ice rink business to him, he sat back and looked at John. "Want a drink, or some food?" John questioned him. Sherlock waved him away with one hand. "No John," Sherlock answered, "we need to go and see the body now." Sherlock steered John by the shoulders towards the exit.

John hailed a cab and then looked to Sherlock. "Which morgue is it?" Seeing the look of pure irritation at Johns apparent stupidity he threw a "Never mind." in Sherlock's general direction. "St barts hospital please," seeing Sherlock impatient face, "Quickly please."


End file.
